She held her discarded shoulder holster dangling in one hand, and her breasts moved beneath the thin cotton of a white T-shirt that bore the legend Y… - Richard K. Morgan

I’m stacked, backed up and I’m fifth dan
And I’m not afraid of the Patchwork Man

Kristin, nothing ever does change." I jerked a thumb back at the crowd outside. "You'll always have morons like that, swallowing belief patterns whole so they don't have to think for themselves. You'll always have people like Kawahara and the Bancrofts to push their buttons and cash in on the program. People like you to make sure the game runs smoothly and the rules don't get broken too often. And when the Meths want to break the rules themselves, they'll send people like Trepp and me to do it. That's the truth, Kristin. It's been the truth since I was born a hundred and fifty years ago, and from what I read in the history books, it's never been any different. Better get used to it.

Bay City public prosecutor's office wants to subpoena a Catholic who's in storage. Pivotal witness. The Vatican says she's already dead, and in the hands of God. They're calling it blasphemy."
"I see. So your loyalties are pretty undivided here."
She stopped and turned to face me.
"Kovacs, I hate these goddamn freaks. They've been grinding us down for the best part of two and a half thousand years. They've been responsible for more misery than any other organization in history. You know they won't even let their adherents practice birth control, for Christ's sake, and they've stood against every significant medical advance of the last five centuries.